A Case of You
by gettinyinggywithit
Summary: They drink and tell the truth (sometimes). — Gintoki x Tsukuyo


**Note**: Title + lyrics from the Joni Mitchell song, "A Case of You." Originally posted on my tumblr.

* * *

**A Case of You** | They drink and tell the truth (sometimes). — Gintoki x Tsukuyo

.

.

They have a usual spot: out-of-the-way little shack under the bridge, indistinct from any other in the city of Edo. Once in a blue moon, almost by accident, they find each other there with warm sake in their cups. Gintoki and Tsukuyo clink with steady eyes, and down cup after cup.

"Oy, oy, woman, you should probably slow down a bit," he cautions after a couple bottles. Her cheeks are beginning to redden all the way down her neck, and he can already feel the bruises on his cheeks he will have tomorrow. Plus, the apple-like blush on her collarbone is just plain distracting.

"Don't tell me what to do, idiot," she replies, slurring just the tiniest bit.

He sighs. He already feels sore. "Fine, but don't come crawling to me when you can't get home 'cause you're pissing drunk," Gintoki says, downing another cup.

She grabs the bottle from his hand and pours herself another, barely stopping to breathe before tossing it back. She slams her cup back on the bar and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Gintoki swallows thickly.

"Tell me a story," she demands, leaning on her hand against the bar. "Any story."

"What is this, truth or dare?" he grumbles. "Forget that."

Tsukuyo's eyes blink slowly, languidly, he notices from the corner of his eye. She pulls her pipe from the sleeve of her kimono and takes a long drag, turns around in her seat toward the night sky; she exhales, letting the smoke out the shack door.

She says softly, "It's nice to see you, Gintoki."

He fingers his ear, tries not to look her in the eye. "What's with that? I didn't take you for a sentimental drunk?"

But she won't rise to his bait; she laughs instead, and the sound deflates him entirely. "I'm a sentimental woman, Gintoki. That's all."

"Oy, you're feeling chatty tonight."

That quiets her for a long time. Gintoki looks at her profile from over his shoulder next to him: she is still staring intently at the night sky outside the shack, her pipe lifted to her lips but not smoking. He never rid himself of the impression that she is the moon incarnate; if Princess Kaguya was a real person, she would have this blonde hair, these lilac eyes.

After a sip, he asks, "What do you want to hear?"

She turns his way and puffs away at her pipe for a moment, looking at him carefully. He can't quite read the expression on her face; it is almost clinical in his detachment. "Anything, really," she says. "Anything you wish to tell."

He grumbles anyway. "Ay, that doesn't make this any easier. An old man has many stories." That comment makes her chuckle but otherwise she doesn't speak. Despite her demand, she seems content to just sit next to him and watch the moon. Finally, Gintoki pours another cup for her. "Man, how come I'm the only one talking? You should cough up something good."

"Something good? Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe a juicy lesbo story from your college days, or —"

Tsukuyo knifes him with a kunai in the back of his head, cutting off his suggestion.

"Hey now, I'm just joking," he says, both hands up. "Let's play truth or dare then."

"Didn't you say that was a little juvenile?"

"Yeah well, apparently I'm pretty drunk tonight."

She levels another look at him; Gintoki finds himself facing off in another staring contest, unsure when or where this habit of hers came from. Her lips work around the pipe while she thinks, and after a moment, she blows smoke over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded, supremely confident.

"Truth or dare?"

.

.

"What, dare? I thought you were planning to tell me something interesting," she starts to protest, but Gintoki wags his finger a little gleefully. She frowns deeply. He is sure that whatever dare she comes up with can't be too humiliating —

"I dare you to jump into the river, naked," she declares, dead-pan.

"What kind of dare is that on the first round!" he exclaims, but the ouji-san behind the counter just laughs.

"She dared you, son, you have to do it," he negs, to which Gintoki hollers, "S-shut up, ji-ji!"

Gintoki stumbles up off his seat, muttering to himself. He unstraps his belt with his sword on it and throws it on the ground. "You think I won't do it, huh?" he cries, his face turning a deep red. "Well, I'll show you! I bet you just wanna see a naked man!"

Tsukuyo, unruffled, puffs at her pipe and does not look at him. "I _live_ in Yoshiwara," is the only answer she deigns to give him.

The water is so cold that Gintoki sobers up a little, and he emerges from the river shivering and furious. Tsukuyo doesn't suppress her giggles as he returns to the shack and throws his kimono over his shoulders; he thinks he hears her make a murmured comment, "like an acorn." He downs another two cups of sake and turns to her, grimacing.

"Truth or dare!"

.

.

"Truth? What a pussy," he says through gritted teeth, still shivering despite another cup of alcohol in his system. Tsukuyo sits next to him, still looking serene, though her skin still has the strong current of red underneath.

"Tell me your cup size!" he hollers, loud enough for the entire neighborhood to hear.

Tsukuyo rolls her eyes at him, the pipe in the corner of her mouth. "As if you would know what a B cup or a D cup even means, you idiot."

Gintoki ruffles again immediately; he looks like a wet hen. "O-of course I do!"

She blows smoke out at him. He coughs violently. "Fine then: a Y cup."

Gintoki's expression is blank; he glances over at the gramps, who is carefully looking away at something in the kitchen. He can't confirm or deny that Y is actually even a cup size. Tsukuyo grins: checkmate.

"Truth or dare, Gintoki?" she asks sweetly.

.

.

"Truth this time," he grumbles, looking away from her. "I'm not doing any more naked stuff unless it's stuff with you."

"Put your clothes back on first, Gintoki," she orders, taking another shot of sake. "It won't do, to have you die out here in the snow."

"Would be preferable to sitting here drinking all night with you," he mutters darkly, but he stands up to comply with her request. Tsukuyo keeps her eyes carefully on her hands while he shrugs back on his strawberry boxers, the black shirt and trousers, and finally his kimono. When he sits back down on the barstool, he notices that she has her shawl held out to him. She is still looking away.

"Until you stop shivering," she says by way of explanation.

He waves her offer away. "Nah, nah," he says. "I'm fine. You're the one always walking around with half a sleeve."

Before he can stop her, Tsukuyo stands and wraps the warm garment around his shoulders. She has a smile in her voice when she says, "The same can be said for you."

He blinks a little at that; he'd never noticed how their uniforms are in fact mirror images of each other. He watches her sit back down, notes that, like him, her dominant arm remains uncovered for free use in battle. Her obi belt, too, has been weaponized: extra kunai always behind her back in easy reach. Tonight, her hair is unbound, one side tucked behind a dainty ear, but usually she wears even more knives on her head in a deadly crown.

"Gintoki?"

He realizes he has been quiet for many minutes now — he snaps his eyes back up to hers, which look a little concerned. _Lilac eyes_, he thinks again, the eyes of a moon princess, truly.

He turns away and downs a cup. "I said, 'truth.'"

After a beat, Tsukuyo asks, "How did you meet Kagura and Shinpachi?"

Gintoki is a little caught off guard by her question; he realizes that he hasn't known her for very long, perhaps neither child has had a chance to tell "Tsukki" the story. When he meets her eyes again, she is smiling: turned completely toward him, her cheek in one hand, the pipe again between her lips. He asks, a little abruptly, "Kagura hasn't told you?"

She shakes her head slowly, mouth still pulled upward into a smile. "I'd like to hear it from you, anyway."

Somehow, her comment makes him blush a little. Must be the sake. "Well, I was minding my own business in a cafe one day, having my afternoon parfait…"

.

.

After, they both sit in silence, musing over the smallness of the universe, to bring together a retired soldier, a teenaged dojo owner, and a Yato girl. Gintoki glances at her again; she is sipping the hot liquor with one hand, slow, measured.

"Truth or dare?" he asks.

Her eyes immediately flick to his; he suppresses a shiver, there is such heat there.

"Dare." A grin, feral and delicious, on her lips.

"O-ho," Gintoki's eyebrows shoot up. "You choose dare? You're not afraid of what I might dare you, after you made me jump into the river naked? What if I make you do naked stuff?"

She is not cowed by his threat. "Does Gin-chan want to see Tsukki naked?" she taunts.

Gintoki feels himself flushing all over again; he grumbles, "Ugh, you're so annoying, how do I not murder you everyday?" But this is not the usual Tsukuyo, who could turn pink and wide-eyed just from sitting next to him. No, tonight she came confident: there is something different in the air, something about the tilt of her eyes, the length of her lashes, even the storied-scar that lines her left cheek.

He shifts in his seat. "I dare you to sing a song."

That shuts her up. "A-a song?"

"You're a woman of Yoshiwara, right? Surely you can sing a song."

She frowns, looks a bit unsettled. "What… song?"

He closes his eyes and leans back against the bar, the sake loose on his tongue. "Doesn't matter."

Tsukuyo thinks for a moment before answering, "As you wish." She sits ramrod straight in her seat, seems to gather her confidence a little before beginning.

_"Just before our love got lost, you said_

_I am as constant as the northern star, and I said_

_Constantly in the darkness_

_Where's that at? If you want me I'll be in the bar_

_…_

_On the back of a cartoon coaster, in the blue TV screen light_

_I drew a map of Canada_

_Oh, Canada_

_And I sketched your face on it twice_

_…_

_Oh, you are in my blood like holy wine_

_You taste so bitter, and so sweet, oh_

_I could drink a case of you, darlin'_

_And I would still be on my feet…"_

By the time Tsukuyo finishes the song, Gintoki is very still, his cheek in his hand, elbow on the counter. He should have known, honestly; he should have known that Tsukuyo would sing like that, like the moon had learned how to dance. He wants to kick himself for falling into the trap. There are a few moments of complete silence, apart from the two of them sipping their drinks quietly.

Finally, "Where did you learn that song?"

She is visibly startled, but recovers quickly. "I — I learned it in Yoshiwara, from one of the courtesans."

"Li-_ar_," he replies, waving her off. "Don't give me that. That's not the type of song they sing down there. This is truth or dare, Tsukki."

She flushes even deeper, caught out this time. "Okay, fine." She pauses to puff at her pipe again. "It's an old love song that my mother used to sing."

He blinks slowly. "Your mother?"

"Yes, before she died and I was sold. She used to sing."

Gintoki nods, lets that sink in. He has a strong image of a small Tsukuyo, running barefoot in an orange kimono; he's not sure where the impression came from, but it is so powerful, it feels like one of his own memories.

He reaches over to pour another cup for her. When he meets her eye, he gives a smile, and is very gratified to see her blush. "Ask me the question, Tsukuyo."

When her voice comes, it is soft and low. "Truth or dare?"

.

.

"Truth," he says simply.

"Why did you agree to this game?" she almost blurts.

Gintoki pours himself a cup, then one for her. He clinks them together and gulps it down. He meets her eye.

"Because I wanted to see the moon smile tonight," he says matter-of-factly.

She doesn't move or say anything for a moment; the redness in her face is not because of the alcohol. She looks suddenly bashful, like she wants to ask more questions, but he can't give her the time. Tsukuyo looks down at her hands around the cup of warm sake rapidly turning cold.

"Oy, oy, drink that," he orders, "then answer me: truth or dare?"

.

.

She complies easily, perhaps grateful for the distraction. "Dare," she gasps at the edge of her cup.

Gintoki takes the opportunity to tease again. "Oy, you're trying to get me to dare to do naked stuff, aren't you?" he teases. "You're too trusting of this man."

She doesn't respond, just sits primly next to him and waits, smoking her pipe.

Gintoki racks his brain for a moment, looking around the shack. His eyes land on the old proprietor, drying a set of cups by hand, looking between the two adults in his shop meaningfully. Gintoki narrows his eyes.

"Fine: I dare you to hit this bottle off the top of the old man's head with your kunai!"

She splurts, nearly choking on her pipe; behind the counter the old man wails, "Why me?"

"It's too late, ji-ji!" Gintoki shouts, a wide, evil grin on his face, "This is the price for keeping score in this game!"

He leaps over the counter and positions the old man with an empty sake bottle on the top of his head. He points at Tsukuyo.

"Go stand outside and try to hit this bottle with your kunai!"

Tsukuyo takes in the sight and actually _giggles_ at the shaking old man. She hurries out, "Aye!"

A few minutes later, while the old man is passed out in the back of the shack from shock (and possibly a couple kunai), Gintoki and Tsukuyo sit on the counter and pour cups for each other. Tsukuyo's temple is just flush against his shoulder, and Gintoki has to resist the impulse to push her head down to rest against him. There are a few moments of companionable quiet, as each of them takes in another cup or two.

Suddenly, Tsukuyo laughs, mouth wide open, eyes shut. She turns to him, her eyes glinting silver. "Truth or dare?"

.

.

"A dare this time? Oh how brave," she teases, fingering the cup of sake on her knee. "Seems you're ready for more naked stuff."

He throws back another cup. "Bring it on, woman," he says with more bravado than he should.

She looks outside; it is still deep night, very few lights are still on in this part of town. Only street lamps are still lit. This area of Edo is so old that they still use paper lanterns instead of electric lights. She points to a particularly tall street lamp with a bright yellow lantern.

"I dare you to bring me that lantern—" she says, and Gintoki stands immediately, saluting her.

"Aye-aye!" He starts out of the shack, but Tsukuyo adds, "—Without using your hands."

He stops in his tracks. "W-what? How the hell—"

She shrugs, sips her sake. "Use your imagination."

He grimaces, steps outside into the chilly night air and glares up at the pole. How was he supposed to get all the way up there without his hands? And bring back the lantern, no less? He mutters to himself, something about "nighttime women" and "their demands," and pulls his boots off. Now he is definitely freezing and definitely going to need more sake.

Gintoki gets a running start, hollering all the while loud enough to wake all of Edo, "Chakra give me strength!" then tries to use his momentum to help him run, Naruto-style, all the way up the pole. After a few moments, he starts to slip, but since he can't use his hands, he just drops and lands head-first on the ground.

Tsukuyo doesn't hide her laughter, standing in the doorway of the shack. "Oy, Gintoki, you'll have to be more creative than that."

He grinds his teeth, "I'll show you, woman," and he turns back to face the street lamp. He gets a running start again, but this time slams his feet into the pole sideways, throwing the whole force of his body against it. The pole snaps in two and crashes down onto the street. But before the lantern can hit the ground, Gintoki twists his hips and snatches it from the air with the hilt of his sword through the handle. He turns on his heel and marches over to Tsukuyo, grinning in victory. He bends his body in half in a bow, offering the lantern to her.

"I hope this pleases my lady?"

Tsukuyo reaches out with both hands reverently, takes the lantern by the handle, and looks up at him with the lamp casting an ethereal glow across her face. If Gintoki could bottle the light that fills her eyes in that moment, he is sure that it could power several galaxies.

"Thank you, Gintoki," she says. She moves back into the drink shack and sets it next to her seat carefully.

He scratches the back of his head, equal parts moved and puzzled, then joins her inside after pulling his boots back on. She uses both hands to pour him two shots of liquor, her head cast down quite demurely. After a moment, he chucks her under the chin and smiles.

"Truth or dare, woman?"

.

.

Neither of them is sure how many rounds of this game they play. On and on, all night, while the old man is still snoring in the back, they drink him out of house and home, asking questions, teasing, chasing each other around the street. At one point, Gintoki loses his shoe in the river; at another, Tsukuyo gets thrown over his shoulder and paraded across several rooftops. She kicks and screams the whole time, not caring who hears.

Many hours pass by. When she notices that the sky is turning that familiar shade of purple-gray, Tsukuyo asks, with a crease between her brows, "Will the kids be worried about you, Gintoki?"

He thinks, quite suddenly, that he could kiss her then and there, just for that. But Gintoki just shakes his head. "No, not at all." Then, "Truth or dare?"

She is smiling when she says, "Truth," but then a wide yawn distorts her face, and he can't stop the laugh that bursts into his mouth. Tears squeeze at the corner of her eyes, and Tsukuyo hits him gently on his arm. It is playful, delicate, the touch of a cat.

After that, they alternate yawns, but neither wants to admit defeat. At his turn, she still plies him with questions, ranging from embarrassing ones like, "What size condoms do you buy?" to "How old were you when you met your teacher?" He pokes her bare arm and threatens to dare to her to strip down naked and dance on the bar, but he never actually does.

The moon slips down and fades against the rising sun; Tsukuyo makes another cryptic comment about Hinowa and the sun, and Gintoki snorts, ignoring her. Finally, she sighs and lays her head down on her arm on the bar, closes her eyes.

"This isn't over," she says.

Gintoki, sitting cross-legged and on the bar, his own head nodding off, barks, "Of course it isn't."

A few minutes of quiet go by. This time when she speaks, her voice is very quiet. "Truth or dare, Gintoki?"

His voice is small too. "Truth."

"Tell me another story," she whispers. "Any story."

They are both exhausted; blackness pulls at the edges of their consciousness. Her breathing is so slow. Fair, feather-light fringe falls into Tsukuyo's eyes; all he can see is her long dark lashes resting against the tops of her cheeks. Her kimono is open and gaping a little, showing the caverns of her collarbone and the flush on her breasts. Gintoki closes his eyes.

"I'll tell you a story," he finally says, his voice so low it rasps in his throat, "about a time I went underground to the City of Night and met a woman with moonlight in her hair."

Her answer is a word in a breath. "Yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah, she started by stabbing me with a knife."

She laughs faintly. Again, that word-as-breath. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Gintoki nods again. "But I'll tell you a secret: even after the woman with moonlight in her hair stabbed me, I still thought she was beautiful."

Tsukuyo doesn't answer; she is claimed by sleep. For several moments, Gintoki isn't sure if it's a blessing or not, but he shuffles off the counter, stretches his back out, yawns again for good measure, and leaves a fat tip behind the bar for the old man. He pulls Tsukuyo's shawl off his shoulders and drapes it around her, gives a little bow in respect of her gift. Then Gintoki reaches down and lifts her around her knees and shoulders. She falls easily against his chest, her head turning naturally into his shoulder; a little frown smoothes between her brows. Gintoki makes no comment, even to himself, about that.

He pushes her barstool in with one foot and nods to the shack. "Be back again soon."

.

.

_Fin_.

* * *

**Note:** Thank you.


End file.
